


Like a Beast in Repose

by theemdash



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Blood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 03:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19220377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: No one ever understands just how much Ben's powers really suck. Set after Five left the team (but obviously before Ben died.)





	Like a Beast in Repose

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to momebie for encouraging me to continue writing TUA fic.

The tentacles whipped around the room, their force nearly pulling Ben off his feet. When he was younger, he’d lose his balance, get yanked along by their momentum, pulled into the spray of blood instead of holding it at a distance. He could control them better now, but sometimes—if they hadn’t been let loose in awhile, if Ben had kept them under wraps for too long, if Ben was hating himself more than usual—they were over enthusiastic and would drag him into the fight, anoint him in blood and remind Ben that he was their keeper, not their master.

This was one of those days.

The blood fell around him like rain, soaking the collar of his white button down, seeping into the wool of his uniform jacket. Dry cleaning had to cost a fortune, but Dad kept them in these stupid Academy uniforms, like anyone looking at Ben could see an innocent teenager. He ripped apart bad guys for a living. Anyone who read Tween Hit knew that.

“One’s getting away. Ben.” Luther pointed to the target, to the man running for his life. They’d robbed a bank, held twenty people hostage, and killed one. Who knew if this guy had pulled the trigger or if his brother had just pointed him at the bank with a single command.

A tentacle shot from Ben's chest and caught the fleeing robber by his ankle. His chin went into the concrete, blood spraying from his face. It was possible he was still alive, but another tentacle wrapped his chest and the two fought against each other, pulling the man apart like a cracker. Surprise, there’s guts inside.

Ben pulled his shirt down, calling back his monsters. As they drew back into his body, they left blood stains on everything they touched.

“Eugh.” Luther turned away, looking a little green under his mask, even though Ben had only done what he asked. 

A trail of blood and gore, the remains of what had once been living people, stretched across the floor, leading to the guilty party, to the boy drenched in blood. Later the blood would swirl down the bathtub, Mom would help scrub away all the traces, and Ben would have to pretend it was just dirt and that his life was normal.

"One day you need to learn control." The words from Luther just then—words sounding entirely too much like Dad—sliced through Ben's horror and grief, igniting the coal of regret and self-loathing, the combustion turning into something pure.

"You _asked_ me to do this. You knowingly asked. You can't blame this on me, Number One. It was your order."

Luther shifted, discomfort settling under his skin, but he glanced at Allison who tilted her head and gave him an enigmatic smile, and then he came back with a headful of Hargreeves. "I said to get him, not kill him."

Ben opened his mouth, anger ready to spew again, but then it went out as quickly as it had flared. Luther and Dad both thought Ben lacked control, that there was something _Ben_ wasn’t doing, that _Ben_ kept purposefully causing all this death. They understood Ben’s powers less than he did.

Ben's powers were bottled lightning. He could direct them, he could prevent them from going after bystanders or his family, but mostly they did want they wanted. And what they consistently wanted was blood.

He was done with it. Done with being misunderstood, done with the looks Luther gave him after a command, done with being blood drenched in photographs with the press. Articles about their powers wrote around the aftermath of Ben’s involvement, but anyone paying attention knew. Dad paid off reporters to talk about how terrible the bad guys had been. But what if those bad guys weren't so terrible? What if Ben was the one who was terrible?

Klaus approached Ben and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "You've got a little… something." He leaned in and wiped at Ben's face, a glob of flesh unsticking from his cheek. Klaus pulled his foot away as it fell. Ben didn't blame him.

"Don't listen to Luther," Klaus whispered as he continued to clean Ben. He was quickly running out of unblemished handkerchief. "He just doesn't want to take responsibility for what he asked. Saying a thing isn't the same as watching it."

Ben knew that. He knew the weight of the lives he’d taken, but since Luther or Dad had given the command every time, Ben had never thought he’d been shouldering that weight alone.

"He sucks as Number One," he finally said.

“Yeah, he does,” Klaus said on a sigh. “But if he’s not doing it, who would? Diego?” He snorted a laugh, which earned a half-smile from Ben. Given their choices of leader, Luther usually came out the more stable of the two, even when he prioritized Allison’s safety over the rest of the team. But that didn’t mean he could be trusted to watch Ben’s back, to help him with his powers, and certainly not to understand how Ben felt about his powers. Luther was strong physically, but he was weak in so many other ways.

“You’re not alone,” Klaus whispered, even quieter this time. He didn’t meet Ben’s eyes, but when the handkerchief swiped Ben’s cheek once more, Ben could feel a line that was finally free of blood.


End file.
